A Passion Redeemed (21 page)

He slammed hard on the pedal to shift from low to high speed. His jaw ached from pressure all the way down Ambrose Lane until the car screeched around the corner. He swore under his breath and punched the side of the door with his fist. "Brainless woman." He glanced at Kathleen out of the corner of his eye and began massaging the bridge of his nose. "Sorry."

"I already know you have a temper, Mitch. What I don't know is what's going on."

He blew out a loud breath. "Nothing's going on. At least, not anymore."

"She's in love with you, isn't she?"

"It's not important."

"It is to me," she whispered softly.

He sighed. "Yes. Or so she says."

"Bridie guesses you're in love with her."

He muttered under his breath again. He risked a quick look at Kathleen, but shadows hid her face. "Bridie needs a blasted muzzle. And a compass. Her guesses are way off."

Kathleen looked away and remained silent, hands folded in her lap.

Mitch took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "You look very pretty tonight."

She didn't move. "What's going on, Mitch?"

"I already told you, nothing's go-"

She turned. "Between you and me. Why now? Out of the blue?"

He veered onto her street too quickly, the squeal of the tires piercing the sanctity of the still night. He killed the engine and faced her, grateful for the dark. "Kathleen, I ... well, you know when ... well, when Faith left, so did my interest in women." He laughed, the sound of it bitter. "In fact, pretty much everything left. My appetite, my sleep ..." He reached out to take her hand in his. "My passion."

She tugged her hand free and tucked it in her lap. She stared straight ahead while the muscles worked in her throat. "Mitch, I think you know I love you. I've never stopped loving you. But when Faith came, she didn't just change your life, she changed mine too."

He shifted uncomfortably in the seat. "I know I hurt you, Kathleen. I'm sorry-"

"No, that's not what I mean. Yes, you wounded me when you fell in love with Faith, but I always expected it. I knew you never loved me. I was simply convenient."

He reached out to take her hand again, but she pulled it away. He swallowed. "Kathleen, I'm sorry. I didn't know how to love anyone back then. Not until Faith."

She took a deep breath. "Let me finish, please. What I mean is, before ... when I gave myself to you, it was because I loved you and it felt right. I did it for you ... and for me. But Faith taught me otherwise. She introduced me to a faith in God that is more than I ever knew before. More than I thought existed. A relationship and devotion that compels me to live for him, following his precepts with all of my heart and soul." She pivoted in the seat to face him dead-on. "What we had before, it was wrong. As much as I loved you-and still do-it was wrong. Hear me, Mitch. Never again will I be a convenient outlet for you or your passion."

He blinked. The eyes were the same gentle brown, the voice still soft and halting, but the spirit inside the woman he thought he'd known was different. He took her hand. This time she didn't pull away. "Kathleen, Faith changed both of us. I can't express how sorry I am for all the times I took advantage of you, hurt you. Believe me, I've sought God's forgiveness, and now I'm seeking yours. Trust me, I have no intention of ever hurting you-or God-like that again."

Even in the dark, he saw tears in her eyes. "Just exactly what are your intentions, Mitch?"

He exhaled and leaned back against the seat. "My intentions are to find a woman I can grow old with, a wife to love and care for all the days of my life. I'm not making any promises, Kathleen, and I still need time to sort things out, but eventually-" he swallowed, squeezing her hand "-soon, I hope to find that woman." He paused, then slowly reached out to reel her into his arms. The glistening wetness in her eyes now coated her cheeks. "Kathleen, I think you may be the woman I need."

She rested her head on his chest, her body trembling. "Oh, Mitch, I may be the woman you need, but am I the woman you want?"

He stiffened. Unbidden, thoughts of Charity barraged his brain. He tightened his hold and lifted her chin with his finger. Her tearstained face wrenched his heart, fusing with his anger. With gentle force, he cupped the back of her neck and brought her mouth to his, tasting the salt of her tears. He felt her respond and pressed in, his physical need beginning to kindle.

No, my son.

He jerked back.

"Mitch, what's wrong?"

He stared at her, his chest heaving. In one quick sweep, he pulled her into an embrace and rested his head on top of hers. "Kathleen, you deserve so much. I never want to hurt you again. But I need time ... time to purge my system ... to get over ... things."

Her voice was as soft and frail as a child's. "You mean Charity."

Her words sucked the air from his lungs, crystallizing in his brain.

Bridie guesses you're in love with her.

The muscles in his neck worked furiously. In love with her?

No! Please, God, no!

He crushed Kathleen tighter against his chest. "I don't know. Maybe. But either way, with God's help and every fiber in my being, I'll get past this. I promise ..."

She stirred. He let her go. She sat up and gently pressed her hand to his heart. "No, Mitch, no promises, please. Not until you can keep them."

She turned to scoot toward her door. He grabbed the handle of his and jumped out, intending to walk her in. She put her hand up. "No, please, we're co-workers only. Not lovers or even courting. Please don't lead me on with anything that even remotely looks like it. Thank you for dinner and the ride home. I'll see you tomorrow."

He swallowed hard. "Yeah. Tomorrow."

She turned and ran up the walk to her house, disappearing inside faster than the clip of his heart. He stood and stared at the humble cottage she called home, as if seeing it for the first time. How in the world had he been so thickheaded all these years not to realize what an amazing woman she was? He lumbered to the front of his vehicle, shaking his head. The same way he'd been too thickheaded to see that his feelings for Charity were more than lust. Stupidity. Pure, unadulterated stupidity. And apparently he was lousy with it.

Fatigue weighted his shoulders as he cranked the car to life. He hopped in and stepped on the pedal, moving the throttle forward before easing down the darkened lane. He released a cleansing breath and shot a quick glance at the canopy of stars overhead. "Thank you, God, that you're the one with the brains, because you definitely have your work cut out for us." Rounding a corner, he headed home-to Runt, sound sleep, and undoubtedly, a serious bout of prayer.

Mrs. Lynch's windows were dark when he parked in front of his building. He dragged himself from the car and shut the door quietly, the strenuous pace of the last week finally catching up. He yawned and glanced at his watch. Almost eleven. Felt like three in the morning. He plodded up the steps and inwardly groaned at the thought of rising early just to satisfy Michael's bloodlust for extended hours.

Runt greeted him at the door, his enthusiasm a stark contrast to his own exhaustion. He closed the door and Runt pounced to give him his customary welcome, paws planted firmly on Mitch's chest. A dry chuckle rattled from Mitch's lips. "Yeah, I love you, too, big guy."

Runt sniffed and pushed his snout against Mitch's coat.

"No, I haven't been with any other dogs. You're the only one for me. And to prove it, I brought you something special."

Runt jumped down, his front paws jiggling in excitement. Mitch reached inside his jacket and held out a crumpled brown package, allowing Runt to get a whiff of the steak bone he'd saved. The dog whimpered and sat while Mitch discarded the paper and handed him the bone. Runt clamped enormous jaws on it and disappeared.

Mitch tossed his coat on the rack and struck a match to read a note on the table.

Mitch-Charity called again this morning. She seems quite upset. I know you'll do what's best. Your clean shirts are hanging in your closet. Mrs. Lynch

He blew out the match and wadded the paper, shooting it across the room to the trashcan, along with the crumpled doggie bag. Yeah, he'd do what's "best." He'd save himself from the throes of death.

He trudged to the fireplace to stoke the peat fire Mrs. Lynch kept burning during his long days at the paper. Energy depleted, he shuffled into the moonlit bathroom to get ready for bed. He wrested the tie from his neck and flung it over the side of the tub, along with his shirt and trousers. Yawning, he pulled his pajama bottoms off the hook on the door and put them on, and leaned over the sink to splash water in his face. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. Puffy eyes, scruffy whiskers, sagging jaw. Even his muscled arms and chest slouched with fatigue. He needed sleep bad. He swished some soap and water in his mouth and spit it out. Lord, let me go right to sleep tonight, please. Don't let me think, or my thoughts wander.

Like a sleepwalker, he moved to his bedroom, shoving the covers aside to collapse on the bed and tunnel beneath. He moaned and closed his eyes, then stretched his long legs over the edge. Even the icy bedding couldn't daunt the relief that flooded his body as he lay stretched on his back, drained of anything but the desire to sleep.

Charity.

His eyes popped open. The thought of her name chilled him more than the frigid sheets.

Pray.

The silent command unleashed a flood of feelings he'd fought so hard to ignore. Anger flared in his gut. She was going to marry a man who would destroy her. Why should he care?

Because you love her.

He shifted to his side, jabbing the pillow several times till it bunched in a ball. He curled his arms around it, flopping his head on top. She deserves what she gets.

Forgive.

"That's your pat answer to everything, isn't it?" he groused, causing Runt to jump up and thrust his cold nose in Mitch's face. Mitch huffed out a blast of air and scrubbed the side of Runt's snout. "It's not that easy. She deceived me. She lied."

Love suffereth long ... is kind ... not easily provoked ...

He punched his pillow again. "So now you're hounding me with Scriptures, is that it?"

Silence.

He rolled over on his back, arms limp at his sides. "You're not going to let me sleep until I pray for her, are you?" He sighed and closed his eyes, finally allowing his mind to focus on the one thing he'd struggled so hard to avoid.

Charity. The very name inflicted a sharp ache in his heart. Sky blue eyes that teased and tempted, lips that were the curse of his resolve. A wounded little girl, stubborn and strong, defiant in her quest for love. And all the while, a sensual woman, resilient to the core, fiercely devoted to those she opened her heart to. He drew in a deep breath to ward off the longing. No! He may love her and, yes, forgive her, and certainly pray for her, but he would never trust her. Not enough to make her his wife.

The realization lodged in his mind like a thorn, throbbing with both pain and desire. He knew what he would do. What he had to do.

He would choose Kathleen. Faithful and true, a seeker of God, she was rooted in the same faith as he. Together they would be strong, undaunted by any wind that raged. Unlike Charity, whose faith was little more than stubble or straw or chaff before the wind.

He sat up, straining to remember the Scripture he'd read earlier. Lumbering out of bed, he padded to the parlor where his Bible lay on the table. He picked it up and plopped onto the sofa, the leather emitting a soft whoosh from the bulk of his frame. He struck a match to light an oil lamp. The soft light filtered into the room, dispelling the darkness. His fingers rustled through the pages until they stopped, pressed on the page before him.

Make them like a whirling thing, like stubble before the wind. As fire burneth a forest, and as the flame setteth the mountains on fire, so pursue them with thy tempest, and terrify them with thy whirlwind. Fill their faces with shame, that they may seek thy name ...

He dropped back against the sofa, his eyes closed and the book open in his lap. There she was, summed up in Psalm 83. A woman whose faith in God was nothing more than chaff blown by her own whims and desires. Mitch shuddered. A woman who consumed him like a fire and set his passions ablaze. There was no question how he needed to pray. God would have his way. He would pursue his wayward child-with terror and shame if need be. Until she sought his name ...

Mitch drew in a sharp breath. Slowly, he bent over his Bible, his head in his hands. "Lord, I'm baffled by it, but beyond all the heat she generates inside of me, I think I may be falling in love with her. She's so lost, so lonely for you. Bring her to know you, your love, your peace. Let her experience all that Faith taught me. She's so stubborn, so proud, I worry ... worry that it's going to take more ... to get her attention." He exhaled slowly. "It's hard to pray this way, God, but I'm asking that you do it. Draw her to you. Whatever it takes."

He opened his eyes, feeling a sense of peace. He smiled and closed the Bible, then glanced up. "Are you going to let me sleep now?"

Kathleen came to mind. He sighed and put the Bible back on the table. "All right, that's another subject we need to discuss."

Runt ambled into the parlor looking sleepy-eyed. He yawned with a half growl and pushed against Mitch's legs.

Mitch reached down to pet him. "Sorry for waking you up, buddy. Let's head back." He blew out the oil lamp and returned to his room, slipping under the covers. Runt put his chin on the bed. Mitch sighed. "All right, just this once. And only because I robbed you of sleep." He patted the covers and Runt bounded up, snuggling against Mitch's backside. Mitch adjusted his pillow and butted closer to Runt's warm body. He stared in the dark.

"I love Kathleen as a friend, Lord, I always have. The attraction is there, and I know it could grow. But she's not Charity. She doesn't make my pulse race nor invade my thoughts at every turn. She doesn't annoy me or rile me ... or stir me. Not like Charity. But she's committed to you, she loves me, and I trust her. I think I could grow to love her deeply. But the decision is yours. Show me what to do. I intend to proceed with my plan to court and marry Kathleen after Charity leaves. So if it's not what you want, let me know. Sooner rather than later. Amen."