A Passion Most Pure (28 page)

"I'm willing to go, even if they don't call me." Sean took a gulp of coffee, then another. "Somebody's got to stop Germany from riding roughshod over the rest of the world."

Patrick glimpsed up with knitted brows. "You're right, Sean. Much as I hate to admit it, I don't think we can sit back on this one. I'll be going if called."

Danny's mood sobered as he stared at the untouched coffee before him. He looked up at Patrick. "I thought the draft was for the ages of twenty-one through thirty, Mr. O'Connor? Why would you be called?"

Patrick slumped in his chair and rubbed the back of his neck. "True enough, Danny. Right now they're going for the youngsters such as yourself, but I've heard rumors of extending the registration to all men between eighteen and forty-five. If that happens-which I suspect it might later this summer-well, then, I'm right there with you boys."

Sean turned to his father, his forehead creased with worry. "Father, if that happens, what would Mother do without your income?"

Patrick sighed and sipped his coffee. "I don't know, Sean. I've been pondering the possibilities since last year. With Marcy's grandmother ailing, I'd originally thought perhaps Marcy and the rest of the family might go to Ireland to help her out. I thought we could put our house up for rent while they're gone. I even have an old friend who is the editor of the Irish Times in Dublin. I know I could get Faith on at the paper there, and Charity might get a job in a shop somewhere, I don't know. But now, with ship travel so dangerous, I'm not sure what I would do. It's something I haven't really figured out yet."

"Maybe your number won't come up." Danny sounded hopeful.

Patrick finished his coffee and rose. He pushed his chair in. "You know, Danny, I have a funny feeling it will. And if it doesn't, well, I might just go anyway. Sean's right. Somebody's got to do something. And I think the fight for freedom is a fight I'd rather not sit out." He smiled. "Anybody up for a game of chess? Suddenly I feel like kicking somebody's back end."

Collin laughed and stood. "Get in line, Mr. O'Connor; I've been feeling that way for over three weeks. But don't worry; I'll take your age into consideration."

"Fine. And I'll consider your inexperience. You'll need some excuse, I suppose, when you lose." Grinning, the two headed for the parlor, Patrick's arm draped loosely around Collin's shoulder.

"Mama, I don't feel so good." Katie groaned and slouched in the chair, her legs dangling as she hugged her stomach. Marcy turned from the sink to assess her youngest daughter, who sported telltale smudges of chocolate on her face.

Marcy sighed. "Katie Rose, have you been in the candy again?"

"No, Mama, just a little, bitty bite, not much at all. Ooooohhhh, but my tummy hurts ..."

Marcy handed the wet dishrag to Faith, an apology on her face. "Faith, I'm sorry, would you mind taking over while I tend to Katie?"

"That's fine, Mother; we're almost done, anyway."

Marcy smiled and kissed her on the cheek, then turned and squeezed Charity's shoulder. "I love my girls so much," she said, scooping Katie up off the chair. "Come on, little chicken. Let's see if we can get your tummy feeling better." Marcy hurried out with Katie in her arms, leaving Faith to wash while Charity dried. Silence ensued.

Faith chewed on her lip, then ventured a peek at Charity out of the corner of her eye. She cleared her throat. "I'm glad Collin came today, Charity, for your sake."

Charity shot her a sideways glance. "I'll bet. We'd still be engaged if not for you."

Faith's stomach twisted. She scrubbed the turkey pan harder. "I know. I'm really sorry. There are no words to say how much." She rinsed the pan and handed it to her sister. "Will you forgive me?"

Charity didn't answer as she dried it and put it away. When finished, she turned, her eyes as hard as amethyst. "I don't think so."

Faith stopped washing, her brows knitted in hurt surprise. "Why?"

"Because you ruined my life. You've always ruined my life-first with Father, now with Collin. I don't think you deserve to be forgiven. I'd rather see your righteous little conscience drown in a sea of guilt over what you've done."

Faith's lips parted in momentary shock, then clamped shut. She hurled the wet dishrag into the dirty water. "Ruined your life with Father? And how have I done that? You're the one who defies him at every turn! And as far as Collin goes, I haven't done anything, at least nothing that deserves how you've treated me the last few weeks. Collin kissed me! I tried to stop him, and he wouldn't. Do you really think I would try to steal my sister's fiance?"

Charity crossed her arms and rolled back on her heels, studying her sister through slitted eyes. "You bet I do. You've been lovesick for Collin McGuire as long as I can remember. It just eats you alive he belongs to me."

"Well, he's all yours-take him! I'll be glad when he's gone so I can be rid of him." Faith trembled as heat stung her cheeks.

Charity grinned. "Good-I will!" She cocked her head, her brows slanted in contempt. "Tell me, Faith, you think you can manage to keep your hands off him while he's still here?"

Faith took a step forward. Her hands balled into fists. "How many times do I have to tell you? He ... kissed ... me!"

Charity's lip curled in scorn. "He's a man, Faith. You haven't had a whole lot of experience, I know, but I have. Let me tell you something I've learned-it's the woman who controls what goes on. You could have gotten up and walked away anytime, but you didn't. A while back, you told me about Collin and your friend Briana. You said Collin used her to get what he wanted. You were right. That's what men do when they don't care about a woman-they use them. Just like Collin used you that night. It was dark, he was drunk, and you, big sister, were nothing more than a convenient means of satisfying a need ..."

Faith's face chilled as the blood leeched out. She lunged, her fingers aimed at the smirk on Charity's face. A creak sounded at the door. They both reeled to see Collin inside the room, his eyes burning in a face that was deadly calm. Charity caught her breath while Faith stood paralyzed.

"Charity-apologize to your sister." His tone was dangerously quiet. His eyes locked on Charity with an intensity that made her blush.

Faith stared him down, her hands on her hips. "Stay out of this, Collin."

His face was a mask as he stared back. "I'm just trying to defend you-"

"I don't need you to defend me!" she raged, fists clenched at her side. "And tell me, Collin, who's going to defend me from you?"

He blinked and went pale.

"Do me a favor. Don't come to me next time you need to 'satisfy your needs' or feel the need to 'do what comes naturally.'"

Collin looked as if she'd slapped him. He swallowed hard.

"Just stay away from me!" she hissed.

"Faith, it wasn't like that. It was a mistake-"

"Just like the mistake I made thinking God could ever mean anything to the likes of you. You were probably laughing inside the whole time you ..." She hesitated for just a moment as a chill shivered through her, then continued on, her voice a hoarse whisper. "Poor, deluded Faith. I'll go along just to soften things up. I'll just do what comes naturally-"

"No! It wasn't like that. I was listening to you. What you said, it meant something to me." He took a step forward, and Charity moved between them, her eyes filled with steely fire.

"No, it didn't, Collin. You as much as said so when you called her a fanatic. You told me you only stayed because you were drunk, that all she did was talk about God. You said, You know what a fanatic Faith can be.'"

Faith's lungs closed in, trapping all air. Wet pain stung her eyes as she stared in shock. Collin's stricken face confirmed Charity's words. Faith's vision blurred as she stabbed a finger in warning. "Stay away from me, Collin. I mean it. Leave ... me ... alone!"

Charity spun, eyes flashing as she grabbed Collin's arm. "You leave him alone! He doesn't want you; he wants me."

Collin seemed bolted to the floor. A dangerous shade of red mottled his cheeks, and a muscle jerked in his jaw. He flung Charity's hand from his arm. When he spoke, his words were filled with venom, spewed forth in a deadly whisper. "To the devil with you both," he sneered. He bludgeoned his way through the door, leaving them singed by the heat of his anger.

It had to be a record. Charity had been crying for almost a week now, and Faith bordered on a depression ranging between listless and catatonic. Patrick was teetering on the brink of his sanity, and he and Marcy were at their wits' end. Both agreed-something had to be done.

It was anybody's guess what could have happened. One minute Collin was laughing and moving his pawn across the chessboard, the next minute he was charging through the parlor like a raging bull.

"Where are you going? It's your move," Patrick had said, amazed at the speed at which Collin thundered to the door.

Collin grabbed his coat and fisted it in the air. "I'm sorry, Mr. O'Connor, but I need to go home before I do something I regret."

That's all he had said, nothing more, before storming out the door faster than Patrick could say "checkmate."

Of course, Patrick had sprung from his chair into the kitchen only to find Charity sobbing uncontrollably at the table while Faith stood in a trance, face swollen with tears. Patrick had never seen anything like it-it was a vicious nightmare, and one they had yet to awaken from. There was no question about it. Something had to be done.

An uneasy feeling rolled over him as he opened the door of Brannigan's Pub and his eyes scanned the room filled with people and smoke. Patrick could honestly say he didn't want to be here. But he was a man on a mission-the well-being of his daughters, not to mention himself-and nothing was going to deter him.

It didn't take long to spot him. He sat hunched at the bar, a near-empty drink in his hand, laughing with some sidekick friend while the bartender poured him another. Patrick took a deep breath and braced himself for an awkward encounter. He eased himself onto a stool. "So, Collin, my daughter's driving you to drink now, is she?"

Collin glanced sideways, then blinked. "Mr. O'Connor! What are you doing here?" he asked, his face stone sober, even if he wasn't.

Patrick turned and smiled. "Since you've made yourself rather scarce lately, I came looking for you. Your mother said you've been spending a lot of time here this week."

Patrick nodded to the scruffy-looking friend on the stool next to Collin. The friend wagged his head in return, then slapped Collin on the back and retreated to the other end of the bar. Patrick ordered a ginger ale and rested his hands at the base of the glass. Collin chugged his whiskey and pushed the empty tumbler toward Lucas. He stared at the cherrywood bar as if in a stupor, and Patrick wasn't all that sure he wasn't.

He laid his hand on his arm. "Collin, you're like a son to me. What happens between you and Charity happens to all of us. We all hurt inside. What's going on?"

Collin took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, his eyes never wavering from the same sticky spot on the cherrywood bar. "I'm fed up, Mr. O'Connor."

Patrick took a sip of his ginger ale and sighed. "That makes two of us, then."

Collin swiveled to look at him, his eyes earnest. "Mr. O'Connor, your family means everything to me. More than anything in the world, I want to go on being a part of it." He turned away and grabbed his drink. "I just don't think it's going to work."

"What are you saying?"

"I mean, they're driving me crazy."

"They're driving you crazy?"

Collin glanced at Patrick as if trying to decide how much he should say. He hunched against the bar and laughed a hollow laugh. "Yeah ... they're driving me crazy. They hate each other, and I'm the reason."

"I know Faith had feelings for you in the past, but I think that's over. She and Danny-"

Collin twisted on the stool. The look on his face squelched Patrick mid-sentence. "No, Mr. O'Connor, you don't understand. It's not that Faith has feelings for me. It's ... well, it's like this. I desperately want to marry your daughter. I just don't know which one."

Patrick sagged against the bar. "How could something like this happen? What on God's green earth were you thinking, man?"

"I was thinking I wanted to marry Charity. But something happened ..."

"Like you making advances toward Faith?" Patrick singed Collin with his glare.

Collin swallowed hard and took another drink. "I was pretty sure she'd tell you about that. It's true, of course, and I take full responsibility for it. I was wrong. It's just that ..." Collin looked up, his eyes confused and almost pleading. "Sweet saints above, she drives me crazy! I mean, with Charity, I feel safe and warm and loved. But then Faith comes around, and I don't know what it is. She's got this exasperating way of stirring my blood along with my temper, and I don't know why." Collin slumped and swore under his breath. His gaze traveled to Patrick's face.

"Sorry 'bout that, Mr. O'Connor, but I can't help the way I feel. Believe me, I've tried."

Patrick leaned forward. "Are you telling me you're in love with Faith and not Charity?"