A Love Surrendered (45 page)

He parked hands low on his hips, his smile a glorious gleam of white in the dark. “We need to talk—climb down.”

“No,” she whispered, shooting a nervous glance at the little girl snoring in her bed. “Glory is sleeping here, and you’re engaged to my sister—go away.”

The flash of teeth spanned wide as he folded his arms. “Don’t make me come up there, Annie, because I will.”

“You wouldn’t!” Goose bumps popped that had nothing to do with the cold.

Moonlight glinted in his eyes. “Try me, kid—I dare you.”

“The trellis won’t hold you,” she pleaded, her voice hushed with panic. Her heart thumped wildly, faster than Glory’s during one of their tickle fests.
Thank you, God, that Maggie’s room is on the other side of the house.

“Then come down.”

“No.” She worried her lip.

“Fine.” Latching his foot at the base of the trellis, he started to climb.

“No!” Her voice was a hiss.

He stopped, head cocked. “You coming down?”

“I c-can’t—I’m in my nightgown.”

His mouth crooked. “Put on a robe.”

“I can’t.”

He exhaled loudly and continued to rise.

“Stop—I’ll get my housecoat.” Hurrying to her closet, she wrapped her thick terry robe around her body with a trembling jerk of her sash and donned her slippers before returning to the window, stomach quivering. She stared down where he waited, his face washed in moonlight, and a knot hitched in her throat.

He arched a dark brow. “Anytime, Annie—the sun won’t be up for three hours or so.”

She chewed on the edge of her lip, fingers fiddling with the tail of her sash. “I . . . can’t,” she whispered, afraid to go down, afraid to be near him, afraid of what might happen if she did.

He huffed out a sigh. “Why?”

Drawing in a wobbly breath, she sat down on the sill, scrambling for excuses. “I promised I wouldn’t climb down that trellis again.”

He mumbled under his breath. “Who the devil did you promise that to?”

“You,” she said, a smile tickling. “When you walked me home from Ocean Pier, remember?”

“Blast it, Annie, forget the stupid promise! Now climb down before I lose my patience.”

Glory snorted in her sleep and Annie jumped, thoughts of Maggie and Glory sobering her considerably. She leaned out the window, a plea in her tone. “Steven, please don’t make me. I don’t want to come down. You belong to Maggie, and I can’t be near you.”

“I don’t belong to Maggie,” he said, his voice low and harsh. “Now either you come down, or I’m coming up. I have something to say, and I don’t want to yell it from here.” He waited, his jaw as hard as the sill beneath her hand.

She hesitated.

The trellis rattled as he continued to scale.

“Okay—stop!” She slid another anxious look at Glory before dipping one leg over the ledge and then the other, careful to close the window till it was open only an inch. Gnawing on her lip, she slowly picked her way down the latticework, pricking her finger on the way. She hopped from the lowest slat and turned to face him, throat dry as she peered up at his chiseled face. “So, what do you need to tell me?” she whispered, arms clutched tight at her waist. The scent of cloves teased her senses and she took a step back, steeling her tone. “It’s cold.”

With a swoop of her stomach, he bundled her close be
fore she could speak, stealing her breath when he pressed his mouth to her ear. “I’ll keep you warm, you have my word.” She opened her mouth to object, and he silenced her with a kiss that made good on his promise. “I love you, Annie Kennedy,” he whispered, “and I want to marry you.”

Her heart clutched and she shoved him away, tears sparking her eyes. “No! How can you be this cruel when you’re going to marry my sis—”

He dazed her with another kiss that blotted out everything but him and the sweet taste of peppermint as his mouth explored hers. “I can’t marry your sister,” he said, his words warm against her skin while his mouth trailed to her ear. “Because I’m in love with you . . .”

She jerked back. “But Glory—”

“Is
not
my daughter.”

The intensity of his voice matched that in his eyes, and her heart slammed to a stop. “What do you mean?” she whispered, barely able to breathe.

He tunneled gentle fingers through her hair to cradle her head while he fondled her mouth with a tender kiss. “I mean, Maggie confessed I’m not Glory’s father, so the engagement’s off.”

“B-but . . . how? W-who . . . ?” The words stuttered from her tongue, as fractured as her thoughts. She wavered on her feet, knees ready to give way.

He swept her up and carried her to a wrought-iron bench on the cobblestone patio, settling her on his lap while he wrapped her inside of his coat. “I broke up with Maggie the summer of sophomore year, and she was angry at me, so she got drunk one night and—”

“Glory . . . ,” she whispered, her heart wrenching for all the heartbreak her sister had obviously endured. She pulled away, eyes spanning wide. “Then, who—”

“Joe,” he said quietly, softly brushing a strand of hair from her eyes.

Her breathing stilled while a weak gasp wedged in her throat. “Oh, Steven, no . . .”

“Afraid so.” He cuddled her close and kissed her head. “That’s why I’m so late getting here tonight. I went to Joe’s after Maggie confessed, and we had it out. Seems he’s been in love with her all along, only he was too ashamed to tell me.” He grunted, a trace of irony in his tone. “And all through college, I just thought they were really close friends. And they were . . . until Maggie and I broke up. Then all it took was a bottle of booze and one fateful mistake.”

“A mistake that God turned into a blessing,” Annie said softly, her heart filling with wonder at how God redeemed the sin of her sister with a gift as precious as Glory.

“In more ways than one.”

She sat up on his lap, slippers dangling. “What do you mean?”

He pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of her nose. “You’re the reason Maggie confessed.”

“Me?” Her voice cracked.

“Yep.” He caressed her face. “Because of your love and deep faith in God, Maggie’s ready to turn her life around with God’s help.” His eyes were tender. “Which is exactly how you won me.” His voice trailed off as he bent to nuzzle her lips, gently, reverently, melting her heart into a puddle of pudding, along with her bones. “And,” he whispered, skyrocketing her pulse when his mouth wandered to the lobe of her ear, “Joe wants to marry her.”

“What?” His words jolted her back, the shock of his statement tingling as much as his touch. “He said that?”

He grinned. “Yep. Guess I never told you, but Joe’s a sucker for kids. Spends a lot of time with his nieces, nephews, and kids in the neighborhood, but he’s always wanted his own.”

Annie shook her head, in complete awe of God. A thought struck, and a frown puckered her brow. “But does Maggie want to marry him?”

“Maggie wants to do anything that’ll let her be a mom and give Glory a good home.”

Her heart twisted, robbing her joy. “But . . . she’s in love with you,” Annie whispered.

Steven tucked a finger to her chin and slowly grazed her jaw with his thumb, his solemn gaze meeting hers. “Hear me on this, Annie Kennedy—your sister is not in love with me any more than I am with her. We care about each other, yes, and we always will. But we talked it out, and she knows I’m in love with you, and she’s okay with that. Maggie and I were in love once, it’s true, and we have a history, but both of us were doing this for Glory’s sake and nothing more.” His eyes flitted to her lips and back, taking on a smoky quality that matched the wayward curve of his smile. He leaned in, his lips a mere breath away. “Now you?” The smile spelled trouble as he slowly slid his mouth against hers. He gently tugged and tasted while his husky chuckle feathered her lip. “Another matter altogether, Baby Doll.”

She swallowed hard, a dozen hummingbirds taking flight in her belly. “S-so . . . where do we go from here?” she breathed, pulse throbbing.

“Glad you asked, kid.” His smile eased into a grin. “Why don’t we go here,” he whispered, teasing her with a gentle sway of his lips before taking her with a kiss that tingled all the way to her toes. “And here . . .” He nipped at her earlobe, his mouth tracing from the curve of her neck to the hollow of her throat, nuzzling to unleash a silent moan in her chest.

“S-steven . . . I . . . need to go in . . .” Her whisper was weak, head drifting back to allow him full range.

Eyes closed, she felt his fingers twine with hers. He lifted her hand and skimmed her wrist with his lips, caressing her palm with a lingering kiss. “And finally, Annie Kennedy,” he said softly, voice husky with intent, “
we go here . . .
”

Her eyes popped wide at the touch of cold to her skin, and she gasped when something hovered on the tip of her finger. Moonlight glittered off the diamond ring he held, blurring into a million halos of light as tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, Steven . . .”

“Say it, Annie,” he whispered, the love in his eyes glowing like the diamond in his hand. “Make a liar out of a man who said he wouldn’t fall in love with a kid.”

A grin tipped her mouth. “I don’t know, Agent O’Connor, I distinctly remember you saying no pushy kid still wet behind the ears was going to tell you what to do.”

He grinned. “Okay, then,” he said with a wink, tossing the ring in the air before slipping it back in his pocket.

“Oh no you don’t,” she hissed, jerking it back. “Put it on, O’Connor—
now
!”

He chuckled and slid the ring on her finger. “Well, aren’t you the pushy little brat,” he said with a grin. He paused, shifting her hand to squint at the underside of her finger. A pucker creased in his brow. “Hey, you cut yourself coming down that blasted trellis, Annie.” Assessing the blood on the tip of her finger, he bent to gently suck it away, and her stomach pulsed when his heated gaze connected with hers.

She yanked her hand away. “It’s fine,” she said, her voice a near croak, “but you’re going home, Steven O’Connor—right now!”

A slow smile eased across his lips. “You’re a bossy little thing, you know that, Kennedy?” Ignoring her protest, he dipped her back on his lap, mouth roaming her throat. A low groan rumbled from his chest when his hand skimmed the curve of her thigh.

“Steven!” Arms flailing, she scrambled up with a hand to his chest, her breathing as heavy as his. “You haven’t begun to see ‘bossy,’ ” she said with a vault off his lap. Stepping out of range, she plunked hands on her hips, determined he’d play by her rules, engagement or no. She jabbed a finger toward the street. “I love you, Steven O’Connor, but go . . . home . . .
now
. Or this ring will be back in your pocket like that.” She snapped her fingers and hiked her chin with a fold of her arms, biting back a smile at the shock on his face.

Lumbering to his feet, he buttoned his coat with a boyish grin that faded to soft. “Have I told you just how much I love
you, kid? ’Cause I do.” Mischief twinkled in his eyes. “And don’t get your knickers in a knot, Miss Kennedy, because you’re not the only one who intends to do this the right way. I may be stubborn and have a one-track mind at times, but I’m not stupid.” With a gentle twine of her fingers, he led her to the trellis and nodded up. “Go on up. I’ll leave when you’re safely inside.”

Her sigh billowed into the cool air, the smile on her lips growing along with the love in her heart. “Thank you, Steven,” she said softly, lifting on tiptoe to brush her lips against his. “And I love you too—with all of my heart. Good night.”

“G’night, Annie,” he whispered. “Call you tomorrow.”

She wedged her slipper into the first slat and turned, extending her arm to gaze at her hand. “Mmm . . . must be a magical ring,” she said with a touch of smirk. She wiggled her brows. “Sure has a lot of power.”

“Yes, ma’am, you’re the boss,” he said with a lazy smile. “For now.” He grazed a final kiss to her lips, the dangerous gleam in his eyes causing her stomach to tumble. “But I wouldn’t get too used to it, Baby Doll.” His chuckle was husky, a warm cloud floating up to caress her face like a kiss. “Because when the vows are said, the power
will
shift.” He winked. “And the ring on my hand will trump yours.”

F
or unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.”

The Prince of Peace.

Annie closed her eyes, the sound of Mr. O’Connor’s voice filling her heart with peace and joy like nothing she’d ever known. She snuggled into Steven’s embrace on the love seat in the O’Connors’ parlor on this Christmas Eve, and he scooped her close. The spicy scent of cloves from his Bay Rum mingled with the smell of pine and cinnamon and popcorn fresh-popped to loop a tree that touched the ceiling. Boughs heavy with colored lights and ornaments glittered and swayed with strands of tinsel, the breeze from the radiator causing the tree to shimmer and shine as if it breathed the same intoxicating air as she. The parlor lights were dimmed, lending an ethereal air to a cozy room where a fire crackled and children sat spellbound on the floor while Steven’s father read about the birth of a babe.

Annie’s eyelids edged up to scan the room, drinking in a wealth of love and tenderness she hadn’t experienced since Christmases long ago when she and Maggie had been small and her parents so very much in love. The bittersweet memory made her miss Maggie and Glory all the more, and she prayed
their evening with Aunt Eleanor, Joe, and his mom would be just as special.

Marcy sat on the couch next to her husband, the glow of peace in her face matching that in Annie’s heart. Beside them, Faith and Collin cuddled, arms looped around three precious daughters while a brand-new son snoozed over the shoulder of a very proud father. Luke’s head rested on the back of a chair by the hearth, his arms encircling Katie and Kit, both snug in his lap. Gabe, Hope, and Henry lay sprawled on the floor next to Teddy and Molly while Mitch and Charity lay in Patrick’s new La-Z-Boy with her head on his chest. Butted against Annie and Steven’s love seat, Brady cradled Lizzie between his legs, chin resting on her head as she held baby Sara in her arms. A sigh of contentment wisped across Annie’s lips when Steven slowly grazed her arm with his thumb, her heart spilling over with gratitude for God’s gift of his Son . . . and for Marcy and Patrick who had given her theirs, along with the precious gift of family
.

Patrick closed the Bible with a quiet thump, and Gabe and Henry shot up at the very same time, tightly coiled springs exploding with excitement. “Can we open presents now?” Gabe shouted, skinny legs dancing as she hopped up and down, and Annie couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah, can we, please, please?” Henry echoed, for once in sound agreement.

Tongue to teeth, Marcy glanced at the clock. “Not till Sean and Emma come,” she said, voice raised to override all groans. “They said seven, and it’s only ten minutes past.”

“Why are they late, anyway?” Steven asked, absently fondling a strand of Annie’s hair before pressing a kiss to her cheek, causing Annie to lean back with a sigh.

“That’s what I’d like to know too. Anyone know?” Katie shifted to get comfortable on Luke’s lap before zeroing in on her sister with a suspicious lift of her brow. “Charity?”

Charity blinked, obviously caught off guard. “Uh . . . I think they had an appointment.”

“On Christmas Eve?” Faith ruffled the dark hair on Brennan’s head, an exact replica of his father’s. “Who would schedule appointments on Christmas Eve, for goodness’ sake?”

“Not sure,” Charity said, tongue gliding across her teeth in the same nervous habit as her mother. She attempted to scoot out of the chair. “Eggnog, anyone?”

“Oh no you don’t,” Katie said, eyes in a squint. “You’ve got guilt written all over you, so you may as well spill it. Where are they?”

“Charity Katherine Dennehy, do you know what’s going on?” Steel edged Marcy’s tone.

“Mother, they’re fine, I assure you.”

“It’s not like Sean to be late,” Steven said, buffing Annie’s arm, as if to ease the hint of tension she’d seldom seen with his family before.

Patrick prodded a pipe cleaner through the stem of his pipe before tapping the bowl in his palm. “If you know something, Charity, you best spit it out, because I won’t have your mother worrying herself sick on Christmas Eve.”

Unleashing a weary sigh, Charity’s eye skimmed the room, mouth pursed as she studied the worried faces of her family. Drawing in a deep breath, she exhaled once again, lips flat. “Okay, all right, already! But nobody here better dare accuse me of not keeping a secret . . .”

Katie leaned forward, and Annie found herself doing the same, awaiting Charity’s answer while Katie arched a brow. “So? Where are they?”

Charity’s mouth slanted. “If you must know, Sean and Emma are—”

“Here at last! Sorry we’re late, everybody. Merry Christmas!” Sean stomped the snow from his feet at the front door, along with Emma, their cheeks ruddy with cold and arms loaded with bags.

———

Relief seeped from Marcy’s lungs in a slow exhale of air. “For heaven’s sake, you two, where have you been?” Her eyes
flitted to the mantel clock and back as she hurried into the foyer to give Emma a hug. Whirling to do the same with Sean, she stopped, outstretched arms frozen midair. She blinked at a dark woolen blanket draped over his shoulder. “What on earth?” Stepping close, she lifted the edge to peek in and gasped as tears welled in her eyes.

“Merry Christmas, Grandma,” Sean said with a broad grin, the glimmer of moisture in his gaze matching that in his mother’s. “Unto us a son is given . . .”

Oh, Lord!
Marcy’s hand quivered to her mouth as pandemonium broke loose, but she barely heard the babble of voices and questions, all laden with laughter and tears. Prying the bundle from her son, her heart soared as she cradled her sleeping grandson in practiced arms that were shaking nonetheless while daughters hugged and hovered over Sean and Emma.

“B-but how? W-when?” she stuttered, peeling the blanket back to stare in awe. She gazed in wonder at the perfect little face before her, a wisp of dark lashes against rose-petal skin.

Emma laughed, a mist of tears in her eyes as she skimmed a finger across her son’s silky cheek. “Patrick was born a week ago, and we weren’t even sure till this afternoon whether we’d be able to take him home for Christmas.”

“P-patrick?” Marcy whispered, throat swelling as she glanced up at her husband who peered over her shoulder, his eyes as soggy as hers.

Hand cupped to Emma’s waist, Sean reached to grip his father’s shoulder. “Patrick Daniel O’Connor, but we can call him Daniel, Pop, if you think Patrick would be too confusing.” His easy grin was in place despite the sheen in his eyes.

Marcy swallowed a sob while Patrick’s Adam’s apple dipped in an obvious effort to battle his emotions—further evidence of just why she was desperately in love with this man.

He cleared his throat, returning Sean’s hold with a tight grip of his own. “Whatever you decide will be an honor,” he said, his words a hoarse croak.

“Yes! The O’Connors live on! Good job, Sean.” Slapping his brother on the back, Steven draped an arm over Annie’s shoulder with a grin. “At least till I’m up to bat.”

“Steven!” Annie elbowed him, cheeks as red as the berries in the wreath on the door.

“Hey, Danny Boy,” Charity cooed, eyes moist as she peeked up at Emma. “Good thing you got here—they were about to lynch me up if I didn’t spill it, and it was close, let me tell ya.”

Emma laughed and tucked an arm to Charity’s waist. “You’re a vault, my friend.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Charity groused, twisting to give Mitch a pointed look when his arms looped her from behind. She grinned at her father. “Dennehy tumbled the lock, but I threatened him with his life if he tipped off Grandpa at work.”

“Threatened him with his life?” Faith peered at the baby over Marcy’s shoulder before shooting Charity a teasing grin. “I think you accomplished that when he said ‘I do.’ ”

“Excuse me,” Gabe said, waving skinny arms toward the parlor like a traffic cop at rush hour. “If you must pass the babies,
please
do it in there—
please
—we have presents to open.”

“You’re gonna want one of these someday, squirt,” Sean said with a tweak of her neck, “after you get married, and then you’ll understand what the fuss is about.”

“Yikes, I hope not,” the little spitfire said with a shudder. “Boys are saps.”

Katie grinned. “Yep, felt that way too, at your age, Gabriella Dawn, but the right boy has a way of gumming up the works.” She sighed, lifting on tiptoe to give Luke a kiss.

“Okay, okay, let’s move this party into the next room before Gabe pops a button,” Sean said with a laugh.

“Yip-peeeee!” Gabe took off like a shot, with the rest of the cousins hot on her heels.

Everyone else herded into the parlor while Lizzie gave Baby Patrick to Emma, who fondled his peach fuzz as if she couldn’t believe he was real.

A joyous sigh drifted from Marcy’s lips as she took her place on the couch next to her husband, eyes misting over this season of gifts, the greatest of which was God’s Son and the blessing of family. No matter the age, size, or maturity, they were children, all.
And all
ours—
Patrick’s and mine!
Her gaze traveled to where Steven nuzzled Annie on the love seat, and more gratitude bubbled in her heart for this girl who was already like a daughter.

Resting her head on Patrick’s shoulder, Marcy wished this evening could go on forever, precious moments in time when her family cleaved together in an unbreakable bond.
Oh, Lord, how many more Christmases will we have together?
Placing a protective hand on Patrick’s leg, she pushed melancholy aside to revel in the here and now, when life was as it should be, a joyous celebration of heart and soul.

The circle of love became a circle of gifts opened one by one, where hearts were unwrapped as well as papers and bows.

“Luke, you’re next,” Gabe shouted, jarring Marcy from a reverie all too sweet.

He rattled a shoe-box-size present next to his ear. “Ah, the new Keds I’ve been wanting.”

“You think so, huh?” Katie said as he ripped off the paper.

“What can I say?” He waved a Keds box in the air, his smile cocky. “I just have a knack for being right.” He tore into the tissue paper, his smile fading when he held up a child’s baseball glove and turned it over, a pucker in his brow. “Well, I do need a new glove, Sass, but this is for a little kid.” He shot Collin a smirk. “Heck, with this, I’ll look like McGuire out on the field.”

“You wish,” Collin said, Baby Brennan straddled across his chest.

Luke deposited a kiss on Katie’s nose. “Thanks, Sass, but we’ll have to exchange it.”

“Why? If the glove fits . . .” Brady’s chuckle floated through the air.

“I think we need to keep it,” Katie said with a secret smile.

Luke blinked. “Keep it? But why—” The whites of his eyes expanded. A lump bobbled in his throat as he laid a shaky hand to her stomach. “You’re not telling me you’re . . .”

She nodded, and he devoured her with a groan, unleashing a chorus of cheers.

Marcy jumped to her feet, dizzy with jubilation.
Another grandchild—oh, Lord, it truly is Christmas!
She waded through a sea of grandchildren and paper to join her daughters in showering Katie with hugs. “When is the baby due?” she breathed, thinking of law school.

A grin bloomed on Katie’s face. “August sixteenth—three weeks after the bar exam, don’t you know.”

“That’s cutting it awfully close, McGee,” Brady called from across the room, his congratulations merging with the chuckles and heckles from the rest of the men.

Luke grinned. “Which is why I’m the only one who can whip Collin in horseshoes,” he volleyed, a gleam of pride in his eyes. He cupped Katie’s face in his hands. “This is the best gift you could have given me, Sass. And nothing makes me happier than knowing we both get our dream.” He tucked the glove under his arm and wadded up the paper, aiming it at Collin. “See, McGuire? Timing is everything, like I always say on the court.”

“Ahem . . .” Gabe stood with arms folded, presiding over cousins and trash as if she were queen. She patted a big box wrapped with a large bow. “I believe there’s one more gift to open.”

“Go for it, Gabe,” Sean yelled. “That box is a monster, and I want to know what it is.”

“Don’t hafta ask me twice,” Gabe said with a grin, cocking her head to read the tag. “To Gabe from . . . ,” a knot dipped in her throat, “Mom and Pop.” Swabbing a hand to her eyes, she proceeded to claw at the box, paper flying in her wake, like a dog digging a hole. Lifting the lid, she bounced up with a squeal. “Holy moley—a million pieces of Dubble Bubble!” she screamed, vaulting into Marcy’s arms from halfway across the room.

Marcy laughed, tears stinging as she locked her new daughter in a hug. “Not quite a million but a definite one-year supply.” She pressed a kiss to her cheek. “But that’s only the wrapping, Gabriella Dawn—the present is deep inside.”

Gabe jerked back, eyes wide. “Really?” She jumped up to pounce on the box, practically diving in until she unearthed a carved cherrywood box. Holding it as if it were a priceless treasure, she slowly slumped to the floor with mouth ajar, a look of wonder in her eyes. “A jewelry box,” she whispered, one nail-bitten finger tracing the carved initials on the polished lid. “G.D.O. Gabriella Dawn O’Connor . . .” Her voice trailed off, hushed with awe.

“Your father made it for you,” Marcy said, throat catching as Patrick squeezed her waist.

Gabe opened it up and fingered red velvet that cushioned a pink vellum envelope. She glanced up at Marcy with a sheen of tears in almond-shaped eyes, and Marcy nodded with tears of her own. “Open it, darling,” she whispered.

Setting the box down as if the most fragile of gifts, Gabe unfolded pink vellum paper. Her voice shook as she read the first sheet that Marcy had committed to memory.

Daughter of Our Heart,

God saved the best for last. We give you our love,

our hope, and our prayers . . .

and a name God always meant you to have,

Gabriella Dawn O’Connor.