A Hope Undaunted (58 page)

You just have to have faith.
Her statement to Katie returned, mocking her for her fear. She bit her lip hard, ashamed of her deception. Patrick had a right to know, but what if something happened? What if the pain returned when he mounted those steps? What if his heart faltered when he returned to her bed? Patrick O’Connor was a passionate man who’d been deprived of her love for over two months now.
Dear God, what if . . . ?

No!
She closed her eyes while the air thinned in her throat. She just wouldn’t tell him . . . not yet.
Just one more month, God
, she pleaded.
I love him too much, and I’m just so afraid . . .

Perfect love casteth out fear . . .

A silent groan rose in her throat as she opened her eyes. “Please don’t make me . . .”

And he that feareth is not made perfect in love.

She exhaled slowly, as if to expel her apprehension. “Forgive me,” she whispered as she sat up in the bed. “And
please
– give me strength to put him in your capable hands.”

Drawing in a deep breath, she shook Katie from her sleep. “Come on, darling, I’ll walk you to bed.” She ushered her groggy daughter to her room and gave her a hug. “Good night, Katie Rose,” she whispered with a soft kiss.

“Good night, Mother.”

Marcy closed Katie’s door and padded down the hall. Her steps slowed at the stairs as indecision railed in her mind.
I
should really let him sleep, Lord . . . he needs his rest . . .

Conviction pierced.
Perfect love . . .

Squaring her shoulders, she made her way down the stairs and into the parlor, and the moment her foot touched the threshold, she was overcome by such a rush of love that her throat ached. Ornaments and tinsel twinkled in the waning light of the flickering fire, bathing her husband’s bed in shadows that shimmered and danced across his thin cover. She heard his soft grunt as he snored on his back, legs spread-eagle and hands folded on his chest. Strong, capable hands that rose and fell with the beat of the heart that was so connected to hers. She hesitated.
But he looks so peaceful, Lord . . .

Do it, Marceline.
She smiled then, almost hearing God’s voice, so like her husband’s.

“Yes, Lord,” she said and moved toward his bed. She bent to brush a kiss to his lips.

He jolted awake and blinked. “Marcy?”

“Merry Christmas, darling. I have a surprise.”

A sleepy grin curved on his lips as he lifted the covers and pulled her in, nuzzling her neck. “What’s it this time, darlin’, a Christmas hug because you pity your husband?”

“Yes, and more,” she whispered, snuggling close. “For starters, Katie and Parker may get serious. He told her he’s falling in love with her.”

“Ah, thank you, God, the gene pool!” His chuckle was sleepy. “How does she feel?”

“Well, her feelings for Luke are still a factor, I think, but I hope I convinced her that if Parker is the man God has for her, it will all work out.”

“Amen to that,” Patrick said with a yawn. “What else?” He tucked her close.

“Well, I spoke with the doctor and . . .” She kissed his jaw, the bristle tickling her lips.

He gripped her arms and held her away. “And?”

With the tip of her toe, she slowly trailed his leg with a gentle tease. “He said your tests all looked good and although he doesn’t want you back at work before the three months are up, you can . . . if you’re able . . .” She paused to feather a kiss at the edge of his mouth.

The fingers tightened on her arm. “Marceline!”

“Resume normal activities,” she finished with a grin. Her finger traced his lips in a playful caress. “Such as stairs, your pipe, newspapers, and radio.”

With a low groan, he pressed her to his pillow and devoured her with his lips. He jerked back, his breathing uneven. “Normal activities . . . does that mean . . .
everything
?” She stared up at his handsome face and knew then that not only was God giving her husband a gift tonight, but he had given her the greatest gift of all, aside from his Son – Patrick’s love. Tears pooled in her eyes. “Everything,” she whispered.

“Thank you, God,” he rasped, kissing her so deeply, his moan melted in her mouth. “I love you, Marceline . . .” He pulled away and grinned, brushing the hair from her eyes. “I hope those are tears of joy, darlin’, and not that you have to share a bed once again and put up with my snoring.”

A tear trickled down her temple as she smiled. She put a hand to his scratchy jaw. “I’ll gladly put up with whatever you dole out, Patrick O’Connor – your snoring, your kisses, your love . . .”

A throaty chuckle rumbled against her ear as he fondled the lobe of her ear with his mouth. His hands and lips explored, and her breathing accelerated. “Heaven help me, darlin’, do you have any idea just how much I’ve missed you?” He kissed her again, stealing her grin away.

Yes,
she thought with another shiver of heat,
I do
.

And they never made it back to their room.

“Have you heard from Luke and Betty lately?” Lizzie asked. She patted six-month-old Molly on the back, a chub of a thing who sat on her mother’s lap with Gerber baby food ringing her mouth. Pink cheeks hung like overripe peaches as she sat hunched, quivering with every tap of Lizzie’s hand.

The essence of spring drifted into the partially open window over the sink, bringing with it the chatter of birds and children in the backyard and the earthy scent of mulch. A balmy May breeze fluttered both the tiny chestnut curls on Molly’s head and the pretty spray of lilacs that graced the table, mixed with Marcy’s creamy tulips in a crystal vase. An impressive burp bubbled from the baby’s mouth, and everyone looked up from their sewing.

Charity arched a brow. “Goodness, she could give Henry a run for his money.”

Lizzie grinned and returned her focus to Katie. “Brady talks to Luke every month or so, of course, but they never talk about important things like the names they’ve picked out or if she’s carrying high or low. Does Parker give you any details, Katie?”

Katie squinted at the hem she was basting and smiled, grateful that the mere mention of Luke’s name no longer caused a sharp stab of pain. Almost six months had passed since she’d seen Luke McGee, and between Parker and prayer, her heart was finally healing. She had wanted to take it slowly with Parker at first, but that had all changed when she’d discovered how safe and comfortable he made her feel.
Safe
from the pain of Luke.
So when he had asked her to marry him last month, she had said yes, working hard to focus her thoughts only on him. And it was working – she was finally happy again. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, offering silent gratitude.

She looked up with a hike of her brow. “Parker? Details? Not unless they’re attached to an adoption report or nailed to a chessboard.”

“Really? I would think Parker would be good at details,” Faith said, threading a needle. “He seems so sensitive about stuff like that, like helping you pick out china and things.”

Katie’s lips quirked. “Sensitive, yes, about details that relate to me. But details relating to a baby? Uh, no. There’s nobody more sensitive than Collin, Faith, but can you see him gleaning details about baby names, the color of the nursery, or if a baby is carried high or low?”

Faith smiled. “I guess not. I suppose they’re all a little too male to focus on the really important things. So when is Betty due again?”

Katie’s eyes flitted to Marcy’s calendar hanging on the cupboard door. She squinted. “I’m not sure of the exact date, but I would think any day now.” She glanced out the window, anxious to change the subject. “Don’t look now, Charity, but Henry has a stick – ”

Charity jolted to her feet, hands on her hips as she stood at the screen door. “Henry, drop that stick right now – and
not
on your sister’s head – or so help me, I will come out there and slobber you with kisses.” She closed the door and peered out the window. “Men,” she muttered, “what is it with power, taking control every chance they get?”

A husky chuckle tripped from Faith’s lips. “Well, in Mitch and Henry’s case, I’d say it’s because they so seldom get to.”

Charity shot her a narrow gaze. “I’ve gotten better at that. Just ask Mitch.”

“With or without you in the room?” Katie teased.

Charity plopped back into her chair and picked up the trousers she was mending. “Without,” she said with a shift of her lips. “After all, I don’t want to tempt the man to lie.”

Faith grinned and then glanced up at her mother. “So, how are things at the
Herald
, Mother – are there still rumors of staff cuts as far as you know?”

Marcy sighed. “Yes, apparently. And now Patrick tells me that he and his editors have agreed to take a pay cut for the time being, just until things pick back up.”

“Which may not be all that long, according to Father,” Katie said, trying to put a positive spin on the conversation. “He says he’s encouraged that the stock market is climbing again. And government and business actually spent more in the first half of this year than the same time last year, so that’s got to help too.”

“Except according to Mitch, most consumers have cut way back on their spending, especially those who lost heavily in the market.” Charity sighed. “And believe me, we’ve certainly felt the pinch at the store.”

Marcy plucked a blouse from her basket and examined the tear that needed mending. “I’ll vouch for that. With Patrick’s pay cut and our savings all but wiped out, we’ll be watching every penny for a long time to come. Which,” she said with a weary release of her breath, “is why I’m becoming a rather handy seamstress.” She smiled at her daughters. “With your help, of course.”

Lizzie had Molly draped over her knees, swaying her to sleep while sewing buttons onto a jacket. “Katie, I thought you and Parker were going to spend the day scouting apartments.”

A frown puckered Katie’s brow as she glanced at the clock. “We are, but he’s late for some reason, which is odd because Parker is never late.” She squinted at Marcy. “He didn’t call this morning when I was out, did he?”

Marcy shook her head with another needle tucked in her mouth. “Not that I know of, but Steven or your father could have taken it, I suppose, and forgotten to tell you.”

The doorbell rang, and Katie popped up. “There he is now. Mmm . . . engaged for a month and he’s already taking me for granted.” Humming to herself, she opened the front door with a hand on her hip. “Goodness, Parker, I was getting ready to comb the streets.” She stopped, her heart toppling at the deathly look on his face. “What’s wrong – are you all right?”

“No, Katie, I’m not.” He reached inside and grabbed her jacket off the coat rack, then draped it over her shoulders with a glazed look. His lips were as white as his face as he steered her out the door. “Can we talk on the swing, please?”

She started to tremble and he quickly helped her on with her wrap. His hands were cold, not unlike the sick feeling in her stomach. “Parker, tell me what’s wrong, please.”

They sat on the swing and he drew her close. The muscles in his throat worked hard as he struggled to form the words. “Katie, Betty had the baby late last night, a little girl . . .”

Katie turned and clutched his hands. “Oh, Parker, did the baby die . . . is that it?”

She’d seldom seen Parker with tears in his eyes, but she saw them now. “No,” he said in a strained voice that sounded nothing like him at all. “Not the baby, Katie . . . Betty.”

She blinked, the words not registering in her brain. Betty? Gone? No – it was impossible! Her eyelids drifted closed and she could see the lazy curve of that beautiful smile, the faint sprinkling of freckles on that alabaster skin. In her mind’s eye, she saw hazel eyes that had always held a twinkle, framed by that auburn hair that so often turned a head. Bile rose in her throat, and she thought she might be sick. Betty . . .
dead?
No, God, please . . .

She stared at Parker, so pale and so stunned, and felt tears spring to her eyes. She forced the words from her mouth, her throat aching from the strain. “How? Why?”

“Severe bleeding,” he whispered. He stared, eyes stark with grief. “She died this morning.”

The breath seized in her lungs. She closed her eyes and fell into Parker’s arms, sobs rising in her throat. How could this be happening? To Betty? To Luke? Suddenly she thought of Luke and what he must be experiencing, and the anguish in her soul was almost unbearable. She needed to go there, to be there for him.
Now!
She clutched Parker’s arms. “We have to go, we have to be there for him. I’ll call the train station and then go pack – ” She shot to her feet.

“Katie, no,” he whispered, clasping her arm and easing her back into the swing. “I came to tell you that I’m leaving for the station now, and I’m going to stay with Luke for several weeks. There’s no reason for you to come, and I need you at the office.”

She blinked, not comprehending. “No reason to come? I love Betty and Luke – of course I’ll come. I’ll just make sure Bobbie Sue is in all week, and Gladys will be there too. I won’t stay for longer than a few days, I promise, but I need to be there for him.”