A Hope Undaunted (49 page)

An icy gust slapped her hair across her face. She stared at the diamond on her finger, its gleam as cold as the shivers that traveled her spine. The wind whistled through the trees, and its eerie sound seemed to mock her for the fool that she’d been. She took the ring off and dropped it into her pocket with a violent shudder. “Nothing to lose . . . ,” she said quietly, a chasm of grief splitting her heart. “Except a cherished piece of our souls.”

They walked in silence for a while, until Parker broke it with a monotone voice, low and edged with intent, as if pleading her case to a jury. “Don’t blame yourself, Katie. Luke has other demons to wrestle as well.”

She gave him a sideways glance, his sculpted jaw blurred through her tears. “Like what?”

He tightened his hold around her shoulders. “Like guilt.” His eyes met hers. “You know anything about Luke and Betty’s past?”

She shook her head.

“Well, they’ve been like blood since they met on the streets of New York almost seven years ago, two throwaway kids with no family of their own, or at least any who cared.”

Katie sniffed. “But what about Betty’s aunt? Doesn’t she care?”

“Yeah, she’ll give them a roof for a while, but not for long, and Luke knows that. And the last thing he wants is for Betty to find herself on the streets again. He feels too responsible.”

“But, why? She’s a friend, not a responsibility.”

His low chuckle echoed in the air, the sound too harsh for Parker. “Yeah, well, with Luke, it’s one and the same, I’m afraid. And like I said, there’s the guilt. She was a sister to him, although that changed for Betty as they got older. And one night a few years back, she proved it, when both she and Luke were too drunk to care – she slept with him.”

Katie’s breath caught in her throat.

“Luke felt awful, but guilty too, enough to keep the relationship the way it was for a few months, hoping it would work. But it didn’t because he wanted her as a sister, not a lover, so he broke it off, both their intimacies and their friendship. It nearly killed them both, of course, but especially Betty. Which is why scum like Leo was able to draw her in so easily. And when Leo found out she was carrying Luke’s baby – ”

“No!” Katie stopped, her feet grafted to the sidewalk in shock.

Parker squeezed her again and started walking, tugging her along. “I’m afraid so. Even though she and Luke finally patched up their relationship, Luke could see that Leo was no good for her, but Betty refused to leave him. You can imagine how Luke felt when he discovered Leo was not only beating up on Betty, but that he’d caused her to miscarry a baby – a baby Luke didn’t know was his until two years later. Suddenly protecting Betty, making it up to her, became the most important thing in his life. You see, Katie, family is everything to Luke. He’s never had any to speak of except Betty, Brady, and me.”

“How . . . did it happen – this pregnancy?” Her tongue was thick in her throat, as if reluctant to pursue the truth. She swallowed hard. “I know it was Leo, but how . . . when?”

Parker’s sigh swirled up and away into the cold, cold night. “It was Luke’s turn to pick her up from Robinson’s that night – she worked there some evenings, you know, which is why Luke was jerking sodas the night you two met – he was filling in for her. Apparently Roberta – Leo’s cousin that we met that night at Kearney’s – told her friend Dot all about Leo and Betty. Unfortunately, Dot has a thing for Leo and used the information as a means of getting him down here. He came to town then with the intention of getting back with Betty, only she turned him down.” His voice hardened considerably. “So he raped her.” Parker’s voice, suddenly so foreign, made her shiver. “And unfortunately, Luke, who usually has a phobia about being on time, was actually late for once in his life.”

“Why, God? Of all nights, why then?” she whispered, not really expecting an answer.

The hand on her arm tightened while the pressure of his thumb grazed back and forth as if to numb the pain of his words. “Because,” he said, his voice so low she barely heard it, “he was with you that night, Katie, the night he told you he loved you.”

A gasp shuddered in Katie’s throat, and her body froze to the spot. Tears welled in her eyes as a hand flew to her mouth. “No, please . . .”

Parker pulled her close. “I only tell you, Katie, to let you know – guilt had Luke by the throat, and in his mind, he has no choice but to marry Betty.”

She felt depleted when they finally arrived at her house, as if her grief had robbed her of all sensation, all energy, all hope. Parker quietly opened the gate and walked her to her porch, his arm steady and solid around her shoulder. At the door he reached into his pocket and handed her his handkerchief, watching her through tender eyes as she blew her nose.

With a final sniff, she gave him a weak smile. “I’ll wash this and get it back to you.”

“I have more,” he said softly, studying her with concern. “Anytime you need them.”

She nodded and looked up, finally seeing the man whose losses were as great as hers. She placed a trembling palm to his cheek and blinked to clear the blur from her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Parker – your hurt must be as deep as mine.”

He cupped a warm palm over hers, pressing her hand to the bristle now shadowing his jaw. “Not quite, Katie, but it’s there.”

Her lips trembled. “Oh, Parker, what are we going to do?”

He blinked, and she saw a glint of moisture before he pulled her to his chest and rested his head against hers. “We’re going to pray, Katie – for Luke, for Betty, and for ourselves. And we’re going to survive and move on. And do you know how I know?”

She shook her head, her cheek rubbing against the rough weave of his coat. The low timbre of his voice was gentle and kind and sure – like the man who now stroked her hair.

“Because God answers prayer,” he whispered, “and he takes care of his own.” He kissed the top of her head and opened the door. “I’ll be praying for you, Katie. And if you ever need a shoulder to cry on – or anything – you know where I am. Good night.”

“Good night, Parker.” She slipped inside and closed the door, tears welling anew.

“Katie? Is that you?”

Her heart skipped a beat. The anxiety in her mother’s words drove every other thought from her mind. She rushed into the parlor, alarmed to see her father dressed in his pajamas at this early hour and lying on his bed. “What is it? Is Father all right?”

“I’m fine, Katie Rose, just tired,” her father said in a voice that confirmed his weariness.

Marcy’s eyes sought hers, clouded with worry. “He had another incident tonight.”

“Marcy, it was probably just heartburn – ”

“You had pains in your chest for almost five minutes, Patrick, you were dizzy and sweating and couldn’t catch your breath – that’s not heartburn.”

Katie rushed to the side of his bed, her manner as nervous as Marcy’s. “Did you do something, Father? Attempt the stairs, smoke your pipe?”

Marcy’s tone was stern, in stark contrast to the gentle quiver of her hand against his brow. “He bribed Gabe to give him the newspaper after I went upstairs to ready her bath. The next thing I know, she’s flying up the stairs screaming that he was having another attack.”

“I tell you, I’m fine – ” The gray pallor of his cheeks defied the truth of his words.

“You’re not fine!” she shrieked. Tears pooled in her eyes as she worked to soften her tone. “Your heart is weak right now, Patrick, and you refuse to take that seriously.”

“I do take that seriously – ”

“No – you don’t! Did you take your pill today?”

His lips gummed into a straight line.

“Have you even taken it any day this week?”

His jaw, dark with stubble, hardened along with his voice. “I tell you, I don’t need it – ”

“You do need it!” Her fist slammed the bed, jostling his leg. “Am I to be your warden every minute of every day? Is your love so insignificant you refuse to see how this destroys me?”

“Marcy, I’m sorry – the pill makes me dizzy and restless, and I didn’t need it before.”

“Well, you need it now, and if you don’t start following the doctor’s orders, it will kill me as well as you.” She started to cry, and he attempted to rise from the bed, his face pale from the effort. She pressed him back with a firm hand. “No! You will not rise from this bed tonight unless you need to use the bathroom, is that clear?” She shot Katie a look tempered with steel. “Katie, get me the family Bible from the bookcase, please.”

Katie handed the book to her mother, and Marcy laid it on Patrick’s chest. She jerked his hand up and placed it on top. “Swear to me now, Patrick, before God and your daughter that you will take your medication every day for the rest of your life . . . that you will not use the stairs, exert yourself with any undue activity, smoke your pipe, listen to the news or read the paper – ”

“Marcy, I’m the editor of the
Herald
, for pity’s sake, I have to read the paper – ”

“Which triggered your angina when you saw the extent of the market crash, did it not?”

He seemed to sink into the bed at the pain of her words. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, the realization obviously sapping his will.

“Swear, Patrick –
now
– no radio or newspaper until Dr. Williamson releases you.”

Katie stared at her father – so handsome and so strong – and yet now so much older than he’d ever seemed before. All at once she saw the glint of silver in his hair, the slight sag of his jaw, and dark shadows that circled beneath defeated eyes. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.

“I swear, Marcy, before God and you – I will do everything the doctor says.”

She removed the Bible and stood, clutching it in her arms. “I trust you, Patrick, something you’ve not made easy for me these last few weeks. But I know you will not lie to God, so I take my peace from that.” She set the Bible on the coffee table and tugged at the blanket folded at the bottom of his bed, tucking it in and pulling it up to his chin. “Do you need a drink or have to use the bathroom before Katie and I head up?”

He didn’t answer, but simply jerked the cover loose and pushed it away before closing his eyes and resting clasped hands on his chest.

Marcy leaned to press a kiss to his lips, and her heart clutched at his lack of response. “Good night, Patrick. I love you.”

“Good night, Father, I love you too,” Katie whispered, brushing a kiss to his cheek.

“Good night, Katie Rose,” he said quietly before turning on his side and shutting them both out.

Tears stung her eyes as Marcy doused the lights and mounted the stairs with her daughter.

“I guess Gabe’s in bed?” Katie asked, her voice sounding as drained as Marcy felt.

“Yes, the poor thing was so guilt-ridden over sneaking the newspaper to your father that she disappeared rather quickly, sound asleep before I could even kiss her good night.” Marcy gave her a sideways glance. “Did you get to talk to Luke like you’d hoped?”

Katie nodded.

The puffy eyes and mottled cheeks suddenly caught Marcy’s eye. She put a hand to Katie’s arm. “Is everything okay?”

Katie shook her head, dislodging several tears from her lashes.

Marcy halted her on the steps. “Tell me what happened.”

Katie whisked away the tears as she squared her shoulders, attempting a smile. “Nothing that can’t wait till morning, Mother. We both have enough on our minds right now with Father. But I’ll fill you in tomorrow, I promise.”

Marcy touched a palm to Katie’s cheek, too fatigued to argue. “It will all work out, Katie, trust me. God has never failed us yet.”

Katie nodded and gave her a hug. “I know. I’ve always depended on your and Father’s faith, but I suppose it’s time I learn for myself. Good night, Mother. Try to sleep, okay?”

With a depleted sigh, Marcy watched as Katie headed to her room, then forced herself into the bathroom where she went through the motions of brushing her teeth and washing her face. She put her silk nightgown on, the one she’d taken to wearing since the awful change, and then welcomed the cool of the sheets as she slipped into her lonely bed. Laying her head on the pillow, she was suddenly overcome by Patrick’s scent, strong in the room. She closed her eyes, and tears dampened her cheeks as musk and pipe tobacco taunted her senses.

So much more than her body temperature had changed of late. Chaos reigned – not only in the tumult of her emotions, but in the well-being of her family and the stability of the world as they knew it. Bent on keeping Patrick from the stress of the dire economy, Marcy had taken to hiding the
Herald
from her husband daily, only reading it herself, with trepidation, in the confines of their bedroom. But the news tightened her stomach and rattled her faith. She knew little about the stock market or Patrick’s dalliance with it, but on October 29, while her husband lay weak in the hospital, her knowledge expanded considerably, along with her fear.

More than 16 million shares had been traded that day, culminating in a paralyzing drop in the market in less than two months, and overnight, a frightening pall had settled over the country. Prominent companies and financial institutions collapsed, their company stock worthless and their futures bleak. The financial world was in crisis, and from the knots in Marcy’s stomach, she knew that her family was too.

Dear God, what does the future hold?
Worry leaked from her eyes, staining her pillow and weighting her heart. Like many others, her husband had invested – and lost – a fortune and was now out of work, at least for the next two and a half months. Their savings had been bled dry, and their future hung in the balance. Fear skittered her spine like the deadliest of parasites, threatening to suck the life from her soul. She tucked legs to her chest while dread stifled her air.

Though I walk in the midst of trouble, thou wilt revive
me . . .

Marcy stilled on her pillow, the passage from her morning missal lighting upon her mind as quietly as the near-silent tick of the clock, whose steady rhythm now matched that of her heart.
Thou wilt revive me . . .

She breathed in the thought, inhaling it deeply, thoroughly, desperate for the calm of God’s Word . . . his promises.