A Hope Undaunted (45 page)

He drew in a shaky breath and looked at his brother. “Thanks, Sean, for talking this through with me. I’m going to check if there’s anything new. You coming?”

Sean smiled, hoping the worry churning in his gut didn’t show on his face. “In a minute. I think I might stay here and say a few.” He watched his brother leave and then sagged forward, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. He pinched his eyes tight to fight off the fear, but it was no use – water streamed his face and his hands as he heaved with his grief.

“Please, God, let him live –
please
! I can’t imagine my life without him.” His voice broke on another rasp of pain, and he wept for the first time since he was a boy. His heart bleeding now like his nose had bled then, hit in the face with a baseball. His father had been there as always, lifting him to his feet, then carrying him home, drying his tears and nursing his wounds. Restoring him with the healing balm of a father’s pride. He was grateful for the release, the emptying of his emotions before he faced his family again. They needed strength and calm, not fear and foreboding. And he needed this time alone.

All at once his body froze at the touch of a hand, and he shot to his feet, quickly fumbling for his handkerchief. “Emma!”

“Sean . . .”

He stared at Charity’s friend who had become like a sister to them all and suddenly had no inclination to bury his true feelings. If it had been anyone else, he would have met them with a warm smile and a ready quip, blinking away his grief as easily as he shooed away a fly. But something in the gray depths of this gentle woman’s eyes released him to be who he was at the moment – a man laden with sorrow and riddled with fear.

She said his name again, and the tide unleashed when she embraced him in her arms. His silent weeping shuddered her body as he clung, desperate for the comfort she offered. When his emotion was spent, he pulled away to wipe his eyes with his handkerchief.

A faint smile shadowed his lips. “Did I get you wet?”

Her misshapen lips tilted up, and never had he seen a more perfect smile. “It’ll dry,” she whispered, “as will your father heal. Just a feeling I have, Sean, born of a prayer.”

Hope flooded his heart and he gripped her hand, bringing it to his lips. He closed his eyes and kissed her fingers, then released them with a grateful smile. “Thank you – you’re an angel of mercy, Mrs. Malloy.” He saw the rise of rose in her cheeks, and his eyes softened. She reminded him of a shy and gentle fawn, ready to bolt at the slightest attention drawn her way.

“Sean, Emma – how is Patrick?”

They turned at the rumble of Mitch’s voice, echoing down the hall as he hurried toward them with a box in his hands.

“We haven’t heard anything yet,” Sean said, “but he regained consciousness in the car, and the nurse indicated that was a very good thing.”

Mitch screeched to a stop with joy pumping in his chest. “He did? That’s wonderful! Either of you want a coffee? I brought six, half with cream, half without.”

“No thanks, Mitch,” Emma said with a smile, “but you’ll have a lot of takers in there.”

“My wife at the top of the list, I’m sure. See you inside.” He butted through the double doors and honed in on Charity, sitting next to Marcy on the far side of the room. Her back was to him, but her body looked tired, arm limp around her mother’s shoulders as her head rested against Marcy’s.

His heart plunged. The moment she’d called, his anger over her push to work at the store suddenly fell away, his only thought for the well-being of Patrick.
And
his wife. He’d been a fool, he decided.
Again.
Charity was his life, his passion . . . at least until their bitter fight last week when she’d tried a new tactic – denying him her charms as a means of getting her way. Shame stabbed inside at how he’d lost his temper, berating her for manipulation and making her cry. In his acute frustration, he’d deserted her, choosing to sleep in his study until she came to her senses. He had wanted to punish her, hell bent that she would not force his hand. She’d pleaded and begged, explaining Emma needed help and she needed an outlet with the children in school, but he’d been too thick-headed to listen.

His jaw hardened. Well, he was listening now – and wondering why it took a tragedy to realize how very stubborn he had been. He’d given her the cold shoulder ever since, although she’d been nothing but kind, and he knew as sure as the ache in his heart that he deserved every prick of guilt roiling in his gut.

With a heavy heart, he rounded the bank of chairs to stand in front of his wife. “How is he?” he asked, lowering the box so she could distribute the coffee.

She looked up with gratitude in her gaze, and his heart turned over. How had he missed the dark circles under her eyes?

“A nurse told us just minutes ago that the danger is past and he’s resting comfortably. But they’re still observing him, so we’re waiting on the doctor.” Her eyes flitted to her mother as she handed her a coffee. “Anybody else?” She passed them out, then looked up with a nervous smile. “Thanks, Mitch. This’ll help because we have no idea how long we’ll be here.”

He tossed the empty box on a chair and squatted beside her. “Charity, I’m so sorry.”

Tears welled in her eyes and she nodded, quickly taking a sip of her coffee.

He glanced at Marcy and reached to touch her hand. “He’s going to be fine, you know. I’m convinced the man has an iron heart with the pace he keeps at the
Herald
.”

Her lips quivered into a smile. “That’s our hope, Mitch.”

“Are you going to head on home to relieve Mrs. Dean?” Charity’s eyes were tentative over the rim of her cup. “I hate to impose, having her stay too late with the children.”

Her look of trepidation – over her father, over him – pierced his heart. He took her hand in his and stroked her palm with his thumb. “No, Charity, I’m staying – my place is with you. Mrs. Dean will be fine.”

“But, Mitch – ”

He took the coffee from her hand and pulled her to her feet, his gaze welded to hers. “We need to talk,” he whispered. “Marcy, we’ll be right back.” Without another word, he took Charity’s hand and led her out into the hall, which was finally empty once again. He ushered her toward a bench at the far end, then sat down beside her. He handed her the coffee and exhaled, his eyes never leaving her face. “Charity, I’m a fool. There’s no other explanation.”

She blinked, her beautiful features momentarily stunned.

“You knew when you married me how thick-headed I was, and apparently I haven’t changed all that much.” He shifted to take her hand in his. “I miss you. Will you forgive me?” She swallowed hard, lips parted in shock, and he moved in close. “If you don’t say something soon, little girl, I’ll be forced to coercion.” His lips hovered over hers. “Say you forgive me.”

With a pitiful cry, she lunged in his arms, almost spilling her coffee. “Oh, Mitch, of course I forgive you.” She pulled back, worrying her lip. “And you forgive me?”

He set her coffee on the floor, then bundled her in his arms. “I won’t say you didn’t make me mad, Charity, because you did. I don’t think I’ve ever been angrier in my life, but in the face of something like this with your father, our squabble seems pretty insignificant.” He tucked a finger firmly beneath her chin. “But you’re my wife, little girl, and I love you. I want to express that as often as I can . . .
without
you using our marital love as a bargaining chip.”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered, leaning in to sway her lips against his.

He kissed her back with a hoarse groan, shaken by just how much he’d missed her. He pulled away and searched her eyes, his voice tender. “I realize now that for you to resort to such blatant manipulation, it must mean a lot to you to help Emma out at the store.” He leaned in and feathered the edge of her mouth with a gentle kiss. “You haven’t done that since before we were married, little girl,” he whispered, remembering all too well the woman she used to be. “It drove me to distraction then, and it drives me to distraction now, so if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not start it back up again.” He cupped her face in his hands and exhaled a weary sigh. “That said, if you want to work at the store, Charity, I’m not crazy about it, mind you, but you have my blessing.”

She leapt into his arms with a squeal. “Oh, Mitch, I love you so much!”

He held her at bay with a faint smile on his lips despite the clear warning in his tone. “But only two days a week to start, and you’re to be home when the kids leave for school and return. And
no
summers.”

“Yes, yes, Mitch, anything you say.”

He edged her chin up with the pad of his thumb, a dangerous smile hovering at the edges of his mouth. “And the first sign I see of you wearing down, or the kids suffering in any way,
or
. . . ,” his gaze settled on the fullness of her mouth, unleashing a familiar heat, “being too tired to tend to your bullheaded husband . . . then you’re fired from the store, understood?”

She reached up on tiptoe and gave him a kiss that made him forget where he was. “You have my word, Mr. Dennehy,” she said with a tender smile, then pressed a soft palm to his jaw. Almond-shaped eyes fringed with heavy lashes blinked up, gleaming with both tears and tease. “And I will personally handle any and all complaints you may have, sir . . . day
or
night.”

He grinned and gave her nose a gentle tap. “See that you do, Mrs. Dennehy. I would hate to go over your head . . .”

“How is he?” Lizzie bounded toward them as quickly as pregnancy would allow, a waddle in her walk and her breathing labored. She absently pressed a palm to an ache in her stomach, only vaguely aware of the pain. All that mattered at the moment was her father.

Brady locked a firm hand to her arm. “Lizzie, slow down or you’re going to have that baby right here and now.” He kissed the top of her head. “It may be the right place, but it’s the wrong time, sweetheart. You’ve got two weeks to go.”

“Thank goodness you’re here.” Charity jumped up and gave her a tight hug, then pulled away to touch Lizzie’s cheek. “Good gracious, did you run all the way?”

“Yes, from the parking lot, at least,” Lizzie said, hand to chest to catch her breath. She grabbed Charity’s arm. “How’s Father?”

“He’s resting and they’re observing him, but it sounds like he might be okay. Mother’s anxious to talk to the doctor, so we’re all just waiting. Everyone but Collin, that is.” Her lips pressed into a thin line as she glanced up at Brady. “He’s at Evelyn’s, apparently, and Faith doesn’t know the number. Do you?”

Brady frowned. “No, she has no phone, but her house is not far, so I can go get him.”

Lizzie spun around. “Oh, would you, Brady? I know that would be a huge relief to Faith.”

He kissed her nose. “Sure, Lizzie, tell her it shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes.”

He sprinted down the hall, and Charity took Lizzie’s arm to usher her through the double doors. Lizzie tried to bolt ahead, but Charity slowed her with a chuckle. “You’re bound and determined to have that baby tonight, aren’t you?”

“Any word on Father?” Lizzie’s voice was breathless as she kissed her mother’s cheek.

“Nothing more except that he’s resting and out of danger,” Faith said. She rose and gave Lizzie a hug. “Where’s Brady?”

“He went to get Collin at Evelyn’s,” Charity said with a pointed look.

Relief eased across Faith’s features as her lips lifted into a grateful smile. “Bless him. Does Evelyn live close?”

“Twenty minutes,” Lizzie said, the anxiety lines pronounced on her face. She started pacing back and forth, hand to belly. “Oh!” A tiny squeak eked out of her mouth as she rubbed her stomach.

“What’s wrong?” Katie shot to her feet, nerves as ragged as Lizzie’s breathing. She glanced at her mother and sisters, noting their calm, and was somewhat annoyed. Apparently she was the only woman in the room not overly concerned.

“Nothing, Katie,” Lizzie said with a smile. “Just a friendly kick. I guess sprinting all the way from the parking lot got this little guy worked up.”

Katie clamped a hand to Lizzie’s arm and steered her to the chair she’d just vacated. “Well, for pity’s sake, Lizzie, park it, will you? We don’t need any more excitement tonight. At least I don’t.” She blew out a sigh and glanced at Luke. “I need Life Savers. Do you have any change?”

His lips curved into a familiar smile. “I wouldn’t take the name literally, Katie Rose, they’re just candy, not likely to take the edge off.”

She plucked the pencil out of his hand and handed it to Steven, then dragged Luke to his feet. “Here, Steven, mind finishing this game of Gallows with Gabe? We’ll bring candy.”

“Oooo . . . for me too?” Gabe said with a squeak.

Katie tweaked her pigtail. “Of course, you too. You’re the whole reason we’re going.”

“Liar,” Luke said as she dragged him toward the double doors.

She seared him with a mock glare. “I am not lying, Luke McGee. That little girl has been sitting there patiently for almost two hours now. Don’t you think she deserves some candy?”

“Yes, I do.” His smile went soft. “But not as much as you. This is tough on you, I know.”

Katie swallowed hard and made a beeline for the candy machine, his sympathy pricking her eyes. She lifted her chin and patted a palm to the machine. “I suggest you empty your pockets instead of your mouth, McGee, ’cause the only thing I want from you is candy, not pity.”

He strolled forward with a gleam in his eyes. “Is that a fact?”

With a regal lift of her brows, she folded her arms. “Yes, and I want five rolls, please.”

“Five rolls?”

“You heard me.”

His grin widened as he deposited his change in the machine, obviously remembering the similar “Life Saver” memory when he’d been fifteen and she, eleven. He repeated the procedure until five rolls of gold and blue candy glimmered in his palm. She reached to take them, and he jerked them away, slipping them into his pocket with an annoying grin. “Not so fast, Katie Rose. How you planning on paying for these?”

She blinked, their little game suddenly gone awry. Her smile faltered. “W-what d-do you mean?” she stammered.